


Working Late

by skylinesunflowers



Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: Elections, Gen, Late at Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25425709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylinesunflowers/pseuds/skylinesunflowers
Summary: After yet another gala, designed to attract donors, Russell finds Elizabeth in his office.
Relationships: Russell Jackson & Elizabeth McCord
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Working Late

Two hours of kissing ass, and Russell was ready to do something drastic, like calling Sam Evans a filthy, lying atrocity to U.S. government on CNN. These damn donors were all wary, always wary, and always insistent that climate change didn't exist. The party was the same way.

He didn't remember it like this in middle school. Back then, his party seemed like a shining beacon of hope, something both Kenny and his mother were a part of. Now, he was collecting oppo research on the candidate they'd chosen.

Russell all but kicked the door to his office open. He was ready to sleep here, if needed. After Carol left, he'd started spending more late nights in the office, less time at home.

"I think you should kick that door a little harder. It hasn't fallen off the hinges yet."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Bess McCord sat at the long table down the center of the room, hands folded neatly over a few files. The trembling in her hands, whether a consequence of exhaustion, or something else, was becoming more pronounced than it had been in the morning.

"Bess," he said in lieu of greeting. "What can I do for you?"

"Do me a favor and lobby that senator from Michigan. Zehra Amari, with the three-year-old? Tuana, I believe she's called."

"What?" He managed a wry bark of laughter. "I'm getting Henry going on ... Jeff Whatever-The-Hell."

"But he's an Evans supporter," Bess said. "Amari's Reynolds. We can get her over on our side. One of her major platforms is climate change."

"Shouldn't you do it, seeing as you know so much about her?"

"Russell, I'm tired. My daughter's leaving for college in a year. I want to spend time with her."

He snorted. "Doing what? Watching _Fighting Cupcakes_ , or whatever the hell it was?"

"See? You do listen. And it’s _Cupcake Wars_ , by the way."

"The election's in two weeks. I don't have the time to learn the names of all your damn television shows."

Russell tossed Elizabeth a water bottle from somewhere on his desk, still unopened. She caught it midair and unscrewed the lid. "You should try watching TV sometime. Besides PandaCam, anyways." Bess smiled slyly. "You could try _Dance Moms_. Ali says the moms remind her of you."

"No, thanks. My daughter tried to get me into it. Didn't work out."

Bess stifled a yawn behind her hand and took a sip of water. "The donors don't have any boundaries, do they? The one - I forget his name, but he's the CEO of Lancaster Tech - asked me outright if I was sleeping with Dalton."

If he'd been drinking anything, Russell would've either spat it out or choked. " _Excuse_ me?"

"I introduced him to Henry. The glare alone would've killed him on the spot. Oh, who's this?"

Russell looked over her shoulder at the photograph she held. His daughter, Anne, standing outside the hospital she worked at. She looked like her mother, with brown curls that tumbled to her mid-back.

"Anne, outside St. Anne's. Like we named her for that reason."

"She's pretty. How old?"

"Born before my first divorce." He smiled faintly. "Twenty-seven. She's a nurse."

"And you have a son?"

"Franklin. Frank. Born before my first marriage."

"See?" She gestured toward the photograph. "You have a daughter. You can relate to the senator."

"You have two daughters," he countered. "You can relate even better."

"Fair point." Bess fell back against the chair. "Yeah, I'll do it. Ask her, mother to mother, about how she feels about foreign policy."

"Ask her politician to politician. Mothers don't care about foreign policy."

"Sure they do."

"Fine." She'd already agreed. What more could he do, anyways? "I'll schedule a meeting for Wednesday, if that works for you."

"Great. At least she's a little normal. These donors are like ... aliens from hell."

"Aliens from hell. Apt analogy." He pulled out a chair beside her and practically collapsed into it. "That damn Julius Burton had some nerve, let me tell you."

Elizabeth sighed, folding her arms on the table and resting her head on top of them. "He terrorized my family, Russell. God, it was ... it was horrible."

He rested a hand on her arm and patted awkwardly. "Hell of a thing, putting him away. Glad we did it."

"I thought you wouldn't be. Changed your mind?"

"Can't have a campaign without the Secretary of State implementing the changes she vouched for." He shrugged. "I didn't find an objection with sentencing that pompous bastard to hell."

"That's almost sweet, Russell. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone you have a heart." She took her glasses off and folded them by her arms. "So tired."

He took off his suit jacket and handed it to her. Pretending like it was just instinct, instead of compassion, was easier to endure than her teasing, so he didn't look at her when she took it.

"Thanks, Russell," Bess said, and draped it over her shoulders. "Wake me up if Henry calls."

He made a noise of vague agreement and reached for his laptop. If he wasn't out there wooing donors, he could at least get some work done.

The report he read was particularly boring, something about American farming practices comparing to the rest of the world. Russell could give a damn about farming. He doubted anyone in the whole damn world cared about American farming practices on the worldwide scale.

About an hour later, when he'd read the word 'grain' at least a thousand times, there came a knock on his door. "Come in," he called out. Bess stirred beside him.

Henry McCord came in, took one look at Elizabeth, and turned to Russell, who raised a questioning eyebrow. "Don't just stand there. Speak!"

"I came to get my wife," Henry said, taking his glasses off and cleaning them. "Why ... ?"

"Take her," Russell said, and shook her arm. "Bess."

Elizabeth sat up, blinking. "Huh? Oh, Henry. Are we leaving?"

"Yes." He held a hand out to her.

Elizabeth returned Russell's jacket and took her husband's hand. "Great. Good night, Russell."

"Bess, Henry."

The door closed behind them, and he was sure that Henry was grilling her. He couldn't blame the man. People tended to find it strange that Russell Jackson had a heart.

He shut his laptop and pulled his jacket back on. Time to call it a night, he supposed. Earlier than any day this week, but still time to leave.


End file.
